On Sharing a Bed
by love-ends-with-hope
Summary: Missing scene from Woman in the Sand Booth and Brennan share a bed. Friendship, hints at more. Reposted for format issues.


On Sharing a Bed

AN: a small one-shot that popped in my head while I was trying to sleep. Missing scene from Woman in the Sand- what we didn't get to see about their night in Vegas.

Standard disclaimer: I don't own anything. I am not making money. Did I miss anything?

Reposted (a couple of time) on account of formatting. It's not liking me today, but I think I finally got it. Sorry to anyone eho got a whole bunch of alerts on this one story.

* * *

Special Agent Seeley Booth opened his eyes, looked up at the ceiling and sighed, wondering why he was awake at- he glanced over at the illuminated clock on the hotel nightstand- 2:21 am. He had fallen asleep just under an hour before, exhausted from a day's work under cover. He grinned at the memory of his partner in the little black dress he had chosen for her; Angela deserved a thank-you bouquet for that particular suggestion. He turned onto his side to look at the partner in question, Dr Temperance Brennan. She clung to the edge of the bed, curled into a ball so small she took up less space than Parker did when nightmares chased him into his father's bed. Booth could tell by her shallow, quick breathing that she was not asleep, and likely had not slept at all. He reached out and touched her shoulder, calling her name softly. Though she had not been asleep, she was clearly startled. She looked at him briefly, then turned away from him. 

"What do you want?" she asked the wall, in a tone that could best be described as tired and weary; there was certainly no heat or animosity present.

"Why are you curled up like that? The bed has plenty of room, and I don't bite." Booth's voice was friendly, amicable; downright cheerful for that time of night.

"I'm comfortable where I am," she replied shortly.

"Then why haven't you slept all night?"

"Not tired," she answered, cursing herself as she stifled a small yawn.

"Not tired at all," Booth agreed, mocking her, before turning serious. "What's up, Bones?"

"Nothing."

"I'll accept that if you can face me and say that."

"I'm trying to sleep," she said, making an attempt at casual, convincing neither of them.

"No, you're not. Uncurl a little, relax, stretch out," he coaxed, demonstrating the "stretch out" principle for her benefit, disregarding the fact she wasn't looking at him. She felt the bed shift under his movement, felt him start to encroach on the limited amount of territory she had claimed as her own. He saw her stiffen further, and retreated hastily back to his own side.

"No." The word was short, clipped, distinct.

"Why not?" he asked, striving to keep his impatience out of his voice.

"Because…" her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

"Because?" he prompted, relentless.

"I don't want to say it, it's foolish."

"Try me, Bones. I promise, I won't laugh."

"I'm clingy," she mumbled into her pillow, defeated.

"You? Clingy?" Booth tried very hard to keep his promise, having difficulty combining the two ideas in his head.

"When I sleep, I become clingy," she clarified, losing her self -consciousness in finding the familiar safety in scientific fact, though she still kept her back to him. "Anthpologically speaking, it makes sense. People are most vulnerable when they sleep, so it makes sense that they - I - would seek what the subconscious could perceive as safety and protection, maybe even comfort."

"Anthropology aside, why do you say you're clingy?" Booth was a little stunned that she was offering so much about herself; perhaps he should press her for information in bed at 2:00 in the morning more often. He shook his head as he completed the thought, chastising himself for it.

"Because that's what they tell me," she said, with just a trace of shame in her voice. She had no problem discussing the flaws and weakness of humans in general; when it came to her own failings, it was more difficult.

"They?"

"Yes, the men that I told you about, the ones that I sleep with occasionally." Well, if I have to discuss it, might as well be honest and frank about, she thought, get through it as quickly as possible. "They tell me that when I fall asleep, I become, well, clingy. You know, showing dependence on them, physically. Apparently, I am warm and open in my sleep. Some have expressed wishes I could be more like that when I'm awake," she added as an afterthought, not sure why she did. He looked at her for a moment, and decided it was safest to let the last comment lie. For now.

"So, you cling in your sleep. That doesn't explain why you're all curled up and huddled on the side of the bed, as if you were afraid of me. Gotta admit, that's not doing wonders for my ego."

"We're partners, Booth, we don't 'cling.'"

Booth let out a low chuckle at that one, finally coming to understand what she was struggling with, there, on the far side of the bed.

"Bones, we're pretending to be marr- romantically committed to each other."

"This isn't pretend," she said quietly.

"Bones, look at me." His voice was commanding, and yet managed to maintain its gentleness.

"No."

"Temperance, turn around."

"No."

Booth sighed and thought a moment, contemplating several courses of action, and their respective consequences. Then, before Brennan had a chance to prevent it, he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him until her back was flush with his chest.

"There," he said, self-satisfaction evident in his voice, maintaining his hold on the doctor. "Now you cannot possibly out-cling me. Nothing to worry about. Get some sleep, I'm going to need you at full strength tomorrow."

After a moment of half-hearted struggle, Brennan gave in and made herself comfortable in the Special Agent's arms.

"Thank you, Booth," she said softly. His only response was to hold her even tighter.

She sighed in what he could only assume (hope?) was contentment, and within moments, her breathing had evened out and deepened. Long after he knew she was asleep, he remained awake, lying there, just thinking. He finally feel asleep awhile later, still amazed by the woman in his arms; for the moment she wasn't the brilliant forensic anthropologist, nor the best-selling author, not even the gorgeous woman. She was his partner, whom he loved and cared about very much, a woman he would do anything for. Including holding her through the night so that she needn't fear her body's impulse to be near him.


End file.
